


Terminus

by sinumbral



Series: we have our inheritance [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Amaurot (Final Fantasy XIV), Drabble Sequence, Elidibus/Nabriales (Implied), End of the World, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:14:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27363343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinumbral/pseuds/sinumbral
Summary: The Final Day, and the summoning of Zodiark.
Series: we have our inheritance [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1960504
Kudos: 1





	Terminus

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a warm-up for NaNo day 2. I've referenced these two scenes quite a bit in other writings.

He falls.

Or at least he sees the ground rushing up to meet him through the thick haze of smoke, the fires chasing the hem of his robes already cast from white to grisly grey by the ash surrounding them. There's more colors there than that now too, the damp darkness of blood, and he turns around to see where it's coming from, or he tries anyways, he can't--

Another figure emerges, smoke eddying away from his dark form as he looks down at his fallen companion through the eyeslits of his scarlet mask. "Lachesis! We've got to keep moving!"

To Lachesis' credit, he tries. But he manages little more than to drag himself a few stones further down the road from where he fell, and he looks to the newcomer with a sad smile and a chuckle. "Go on, then. Tell--tell Lahabrea it's all him now, will you?"

The last thing Lachesis expects is strong arms wrapped around him lifting him up, warm breath against his cheek curling up beneath the edge of his own mask, and words murmured nearly on his lips. "Does it hurt?"

An exhalation, short and sharp. "It should, shouldn't it, Posidion? But it doesn't, and that...that's worse, I think."

Posidion shifts Lachesis in his arms and Lachesis is aware of the point at which the feel of the other man's hands vanishes into nothingness--he feels like he's floating, flying, as Posidion takes off at a run. His voice is nearly lost against the rush of wind and the crackle of flames and the crashes of falling stone. "Hold tight, Lachesis--I've got you."

**Author's Note:**

> Posidion's name should rightfully be Posidonius if I'm sticking to the inspiration, but I felt like the shorter one fit him better. He is my pre-Sundering Nabriales, and will show up much more in other works!


End file.
